Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
T he morning fog clung to the mountainside as Tom followed his usual hiking trail, boots crunching on gravel and pine needles. He’d been coming up here more often lately, seeking clarity in the quiet of the wilderness. Not that it was helping much—his thoughts kept circling back to hazel eyes and a stubborn smile.
“Blasted Scots,” he muttered, pushing himself faster up the incline.
He hadn’t asked for this. He’d come to Harmony Falls for peace, for a chance to build something stable after his time in service. The security business was doing well, his workshop gave him the quiet he needed, and he’d been content.
Then the MacGregors had to go and find Ella Kingsley.
A hawk circled overhead, its cry echoing across the valley. Tom paused at a lookout point, breathing hard from the climb. The town spread out far below him, morning sun just starting to burn through the mist. From here, he could see the elementary school, the pub, the row of shops along Main Street. It all looked so peaceful, so normal.
Except nothing had felt normal since Ella arrived.
He pulled out his water bottle, remembering how she’d looked in the coffee shop yesterday, animated as she described the planetarium field trip. The way her eyes lit up when she talked about her students. The slight wrinkle in her brow when she was thinking hard about something.
“Stop it,” he ordered himself. But the images kept coming.
Ella catching his eye across a crowded hallway. Ella laughing at something her students said. Ella biting her lip as she concentrated on grading papers, a streak of red pen on her cheek...
A branch snapped somewhere behind him, pulling him instantly alert. But it was just a deer, regarding him with calm eyes before disappearing into the underbrush.
Tom let out a breath, forcing his muscles to relax. Even here, miles from civilization, his SEAL training stayed with him. Years of Special Operations had rewired his brain, embedding instincts that refused to fade even after leaving the service. Every shadow warranted inspection, every sound demanded analysis.
“She’s not yours to protect,” he reminded himself, the words echoing his old team leader’s mantra about letting go of what you couldn’t control. But now, like then, the SEAL in him refused to listen. Something about Ella stirred those deeply ingrained protective instincts, making him want to scan for threats, secure perimeters, ensure her safety—whether she needed it or not.
The trail curved ahead, leading to his favorite outlook point. He’d found himself wondering lately if Ella would enjoy the view, if she’d appreciate the way the morning light painted the valley in shades of gold and green.
“And this,” he muttered, “is exactly what they wanted.”
The MacGregors had probably planned it all—making sure he was at the school when she needed help, engineering those “coincidental” meetings. Hell, they’d probably timed his security system installation to coincide with her arrival.
He should be angry about their manipulation. He was angry. But underneath that anger was something else, something that felt dangerously like gratitude.
Because without their meddling, he might never have met her. Never seen how she turned simple moments into something special, how she faced the brothers’ overwhelming interest with grace and humor, how she was building a life here piece by piece, day by day.
A life he was starting to wish he could be part of.
“You’re losing it, Dalton,” he told himself, but there was no heat in the words.
He reached the outlook point, where a fallen log served as a natural bench. The valley had fully emerged from the morning mist now, sunlight sparkling off the river that wound through town.
Tom sat, letting the peace of the mountain wash over him. Up here, he could almost convince himself that his growing feelings for Ella were just a temporary madness, that he could go back to his carefully ordered life if he tried hard enough.
Almost.
But he knew better. The MacGregors might have orchestrated their meeting, but they couldn’t orchestrate the way his heart rate picked up when she smiled. They couldn’t fake the ease he felt in her presence, or how for the first time in years, he was starting to imagine a future that wasn’t solitary.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said to the valley below. “She deserves better than someone who can’t even sleep through the night.”
A cool breeze carried the scent of pine and late summer flowers. Somewhere in the distance, a woodpecker tapped out its morning rhythm. The mountain offered no answers, but its silence was companionable.
Tom checked his watch. He had a zoom call in an hour, a security consultation, and he needed to shower first. Time to head back to reality.
But as he started down the trail, he couldn’t help noticing a patch of wildflowers similar to the ones Ella had on her desk. Before he could talk himself out of it, he paused to take a picture with his phone.
Just in case she wanted to know what they looked like in their natural habitat. For science. For her students.
“You’re not fooling anyone,” he told himself, but he saved the photo anyway.
The MacGregors might have forced this particular door open, but he was the one choosing to walk through it. He just hoped he wouldn’t regret it.
Or worse, make her regret it.
The early morning sun streamed through the windows of Room 23, casting long shadows across empty desks. Ella stood at the whiteboard, carefully writing out fraction problems for her third graders. Math first thing in the morning was always a challenge, but she’d learned that integrating movement and hands-on activities helped keep her students engaged.
“Alright everyone,” she announced as her students filed in, “today we’re going to turn fractions into pizza!”
The mention of pizza perked up even her sleepiest students. She’d brought paper plates for each child, having them fold and color sections to represent different fractions. The activity was going well until Quentin’s frustrated groan cut through the classroom chatter.
“I can’t make mine look right,” he complained, crumpling his paper plate.
Ella knelt beside his desk. “Let’s try it together. Sometimes it helps to fold it a different way first.”
As she helped Tommy smooth out his plate, her eyes drifted to the classroom door. For the past few weeks, Tom had often appeared during her lessons, claiming to be checking the security system. But she hadn’t seen him in days.
Not that she was counting.
“Ms. Kingsley?” Quentin’s voice snapped her back to the present. “Like this?”
“Perfect,” she smiled, pushing thoughts of Tom aside. “Now, how many pieces do you need to shade in to show three-fourths?”
The morning progressed with paper plates becoming increasingly decorated as her students worked through various fraction problems. Ella moved between desks, offering encouragement and redirection as needed. She loved these moments—watching understanding dawn on young faces, seeing their pride in mastering new concepts.
But every time footsteps passed in the hallway, she found herself glancing up, expecting to see a tall figure with watchful eyes and that almost-smile that seemed reserved just for her.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered to herself while collecting materials at lunch. “You barely know him.”
Except that wasn’t quite true anymore, was it? She knew he took his coffee black with two sugars. Knew the way his shoulders tensed during thunderstorms, though he tried to hide it. Knew how his laugh, rare as it was, seemed to come from somewhere deep and genuine.
“Ms. Kingsley?” Piper lingered by her desk after the other students left for lunch. “Are you okay? You kept looking at the door today.”
Heat crept into Ella’s cheeks. Was she that obvious? “Just making sure no one needed anything,” she deflected smoothly. “Ready for lunch?”
As she watched Piper skip away to join her friends, Ella sank into her chair with a sigh. She touched her pendant absently, a habit that usually brought comfort. But today it just reminded her of how the MacGregors—and by extension, Tom—had become such an unexpected part of her new life here.
A life that suddenly felt a little emptier without random security checks and quiet conversations in doorways.
“This isn’t what you came here for,” she reminded herself firmly, gathering her lunch bag. But as she headed to the teachers’ lounge, she couldn’t quite convince herself that was true anymore.
Maybe Harmony Falls, with all its quirks and complications—including a certain brooding security expert—was exactly where she was meant to be.
Even if she wasn’t quite ready to admit it yet.